


Lost by zero points

by heartbroken_by_boundaries



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Auror Harry Potter, Comfort, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Quidditch World Cup, Sad Draco Malfoy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-19
Updated: 2019-07-19
Packaged: 2020-07-08 12:07:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19869385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartbroken_by_boundaries/pseuds/heartbroken_by_boundaries
Summary: Harry has had to work a night shift and misses out on watching England play in the Quidditch World Cup final at home with Draco.Unbeknownst to Harry, the drama on the pitch was just a starting point for the real theatrics he’d be witness to that night, as on arriving home he is confronted with a heartbroken and rather melodramatic Draco.Or, what if the Cricket World Cup Final happened in the magical world and England didn’t get to take home the cup?





	Lost by zero points

**Author's Note:**

> This Quidditch themed story is closely based on the Cricket World Cup final, and while there are a lot of references for anyone familiar with it in the story, I hope it will still be enjoyable as a stand-alone piece otherwise. 
> 
> Very much written to deal with the pain of that match, and I am 100% the Draco in this story. Sorry England, but I needed to have you suffer this time around. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own these characters and do not make any financial gain from this work.

Harry hated working the night shift. The one positive about tonight was that it was his last one for another month, but it wasn’t much consolation when he’d had to work instead of following the Quidditch World Cup final like everyone else he knew.

Thanks to time zones, the match had started just as he had been leaving for work, and when most reasonable people would have been winding down for bed. Of course, this meant that Draco had planned to stay up all night watching, hoping the match finished before he collapsed from exhaustion. 

That was the problem with supporting Quidditch, that you never knew when it would finish, but Draco didn’t care. Harry had never met a more passionate supporter than Draco, and ever since they’d started dating three years ago, he’d learnt to deal with his Quidditch related moods for the most part. Harry often wondered if that passion came from their own playing days at school, even though they’d both decided to give up playing themselves after the war. 

Apparating to his front door step, he carefully removed his boots. He wondered if the match was still going, and hoped that England was winning. To be honest everyone had been surprised that they’d made it this far, and he sort of assumed that they’d have lost horribly, but he could always hope.

He was just about to push open the door when he heard a high pitched wail from inside. His heart leapt in his throat. If that were Draco, it sounded like he was in trouble. Harry’s Auror instincts kicked into gear, and he gripped his wand in his hand, quickly casting a shield charm around himself before opening the door.

“Draco! Draco, are you there?”

“Noooooo! You can’t do this! Fuck, this can’t be happening!”

Harry ran towards where Draco’s voice was coming from. He blasted open the door, all sorts of horrific situations running through his head involving Draco being tortured or cursed. 

“Noooooo!” Draco yelled again. 

What Harry hadn’t expected was to find Draco curled into a ball on the floor, pain etched into every millimetre of his face, with tears running down his face as he clung to their magical television.

“Draco?” Harry asked, carefully stowing his wand again. “What happened?”

Draco nodded at the television, and Harry understood. It appeared that the match had only just finished. “We lost, I assume?” 

“No!” Draco screamed, pushing himself back to a sitting position at Harry’s feet. “We didn’t lose! But they still got awarded the bloody Cup! Harry, it’s not fair, please, you have to do something.”

Harry gently patted Draco’s hair. He honestly had no bloody idea what Draco was going on about, but he gathered that the final hadn’t gone their way. Harry was disappointed, but he never got as emotionally invested in the outcome as Draco did. Then again, Draco’s passion and excitement was one of the reasons that Harry loved him.

“Tell me what happened, hun,” Harry implored gently. He was tired, so incredibly tired, but he didn’t think running off to bed now was a good idea. Draco didn’t appear to have slept at all, so it was possible that some of his hysterics issued from tiredness.

“We drew,” Draco began, wiping away a tear that was running down his cheek. “And before you start, I know it never happens. Believe me. But the scores were level, and both seekers touched the snitch at the same time. Somehow, I don’t know how.”

Harry nodded, running his hand gently through Draco’s hair, encouraging him to continue. “I thought we had it, Harry, I really did. I know beforehand that we didn’t think England could do it, but during the match I really believed we could do it. We played better, we were ahead for so much of the game, and their seeker just seemed hopeless. It just all happened so quickly. And it’s so unfair!”

Draco dissolved again into full, gut-wrenching sobs, and Harry glanced at the television. The English team were scattered about the pitch, anguish clear on the face of every single one of them. So much pain, so much heartbreak. Complete and utter despair, which Draco was echoing in their living room.

“So if we drew, what happened then?”

After taking a moment to attempt to compose himself, Draco cleared his throat and faced Harry. “There was ten minutes of extra time, goals only, no snitch in play. Team with the highest total wins, you know?”

“And they scored more than us?”

“No!” Draco cried again, throwing his arms into the air. “No! We got the exact same number of goals! We were tied. Right through to the end, we had the exact same score, there was no separating us.”

“Huh,” Harry said, “so wouldn’t we just share the cup in that case?”

Clearly that had been the wrong thing to say. Draco leapt to his feet, his wand hurtling across the room as his gestures became more wild. “Well, thank goodness we have you to offer that suggestion,” he began sarcastically, “what a great bloody idea that is! Do you know the thought hadn’t crossed my mind while I’ve been sitting here screaming at them!”

Harry could see the pain Draco was in, so bit back any snappy retorts. “Okay, so if we aren’t sharing it, how come they get the Cup?”

Draco sighed, his anger disappearing for the moment and being replaced once again by a look of longing and hopelessness. Harry’s heart clenched looking at how much Draco was suffering. Tears started rolling down his face again, the pain and despair clearly written across every one of his features.

“Saves,” he sighed after a long moment, as if it hurt him to even say the word. “Their Keeper saved more goals than ours.”

Harry took a moment to process it. “What, so that’s how they decided who got the World Cup? Saves by the Keeper? That’s insane! Why don’t they do more extra time?” 

Draco shook his head, evidently at a loss for words for the time being. Harry’s head was spinning. He may not get as wound up as Draco about the results, but he did love Quidditch, and this seemed like a ridiculous rule.

“How come they don’t do it by shots on target then?” Harry asked. “Wouldn’t we have got more of those if their Keeper had to save so many?”

“Depending on the random statistic you choose, either team could have been awarded the Cup,” Draco said, picking up a cushion and throwing it rather harder than was necessary back onto the couch. 

“We were so close, Harry. We deserved it. They got so lucky... every call went their way. You should have seen it. At one point their Chaser wasn’t even watching and the Quaffle went past him... he turned around and it just happened to deflect off the end of his broom and through the hoop. He couldn’t have done it if he tried.”

“Bloody hell,” Harry groaned, finally sitting down on their couch. 

“I know. So many things like that happened, Harry, it was unbelievable. It’s so wrong. I actually feel sick.”

They stayed in silence for a few minutes, before Harry got up from the couch and sat on the floor next to Draco, who had started sobbing again.

“It’ll be okay,” Harry said, despite his own stomach feeling hollow and pained at the way they’d lost. 

“No it won’t,” Draco choked out. “This was it. This was our one chance... our one chance, Harry. And they took it away from us. They’ll win again, of course they will, they have ten times our budget to put into Quidditch. It’s just not fair.”

There wasn’t anything he could say. Harry was suddenly thankful that he’d been working and hadn’t been forced to endure watching the game. He couldn’t deny his own heartbreak at the result, and he hadn’t had to sit through the whole ordeal.

“We should go to sleep,” Harry said eventually. “I’m so tired.”

Draco sighed, and nuzzled his face into Harry’s neck. “Me too,” he admitted. “I stayed up thinking that maybe we had a chance. I had so much hope, Harry. And then it was all taken away. I feel like they’ve shattered my heart, crushed all my dreams and then reached into my soul just to punch me there too. Why does it hurt this bad?”

“Because you care, love,” Harry said, lightly kissing Draco on the head. “And that’s a good thing. A team needs fans as passionate as you. You’ll be there for their next victory, even if it’s not the World Cup. And you’ll cheer and celebrate and share in that happiness too. I’m afraid you can’t get one without the other. If you get to feel happy when they win, you have to be sad when they lose too unfortunately.”

“But they didn’t lose!” Draco snapped back quickly.

“I know, I know,” Harry responded, placatingly. “You’re right. It is unfair. But there’s nothing we can do now. It’s happened. Maybe they’ll change the rules for next time and make sure if this happens again that the Cup will be shared.”

“Like that helps us,” Draco muttered darkly.

“Come on,” Harry said, standing up and offering his hand to Draco. “You and I both need sleep. It’s 6am already. Thank goodness it’s Sunday so we can sleep in.”

“I just want to sit here and cry,” Draco said dramatically, refusing Harry’s hand. “I’m too sad to get up.”

Harry rolled his eyes. He loved this man, ridiculous moods about Quidditch and all. 

“That won’t change the result though,” Harry pointed out.

“I don’t care,” Draco huffed. “I’m just going to be miserable for a while. It’s fitting. But you know, I bet you could get them to change the result. Tell them you saved the world, and, as you’re English, then England deserve the World Cup.”

Harry laughed at that. “I don’t think that’s how it works, love.”

“Why not? It’s just as good as deciding it based on the bloody number of Keeper saves. Keeper saves, for crying out loud!”

“Look, I know you’re upset, but I’ve got to get some sleep, okay? Come to bed, love. I’ll give you a really big cuddle,” Harry added, batting his eyelashes ludicrously. 

That at least had the effect of making Draco smile, if only very slightly. “Really?”

“The biggest cuddle you ever did have,” Harry assured him, nodding seriously. “You’ll think I’m an octopus with big tentacles wrapped around you.”

Draco raised an eyebrow in Harry’s direction. “Is that meant to be appealing?”

Harry shrugged. “I think you find me appealing.”

“I do,” Draco replied, “but not octopuses. Or is it octopi? Octopodes? It’s confusing.”

“It is,” Harry agreed, trying and failing to contain a grin from spreading across his face. “So, do you want to come and let me envelop you in my octopus tentacles?”

Draco snorted, and at last accepted Harry’s hand to let himself be pulled up. “That is truly one of the worst lines you’ve ever used, Harry. And that’s including when you asked me out by inviting me to a lecture on basic wand safety.”

“You’re never going to let me forget that are you? It was three years ago!”

“No I won’t let you forget it, because it was a stupid invite.”

“Then why did you accept?”

Draco squeezed his hand and said gently, “you know why.”

Harry smiled, and they didn’t speak further until they were lying curled up together in bed, Harry’s chest pressed firmly against Draco’s back.

“Harry,” Draco said quietly, “I think I’m going to need to bake cookies tomorrow. You know, to make me feel better after that final.”

“I’m never going to discourage that,” Harry teased.

“I’m serious,” Draco huffed. “I deserve to eat as many fatty and sugary treats as I want after what I’ve had to go through. I’m so sad, Harry.”

“You’re not going to get over this in a hurry, are you?” Harry asked. 

“No,” Draco answered resolutely. “Maybe in a decade or two or three. I don’t know. Depends if we ever win. I guess I can hope that we’ll win in my lifetime. I could watch it with our grandchild on my knee.”

“Our grandchild? We don’t have kids, Draco. Makes it a little tricky.”

Draco turned to face him. “Well we should do something about that then! Come on, Harry, why don’t we have a baby?”

Harry blinked. This had taken a sudden turn. “Um, Draco, I don’t think this is the time for that conversation.”

“But we could,” Draco insisted, seemingly much more awake now than Harry felt. “We could name him or her after one of the England players! Show them we care!”

“Draco, I love you, but we are not having a baby just because England didn’t win the World Cup,” Harry said firmly.

“But you’re open to it?” Draco asked.

“Shit, Draco, yes I want to have children with you, but when we’re both ready. Not when you want something to take your mind off the pain of England losing a Quidditch match!”

“We didn’t lose!”

“Okay, I know, so you’ve said. But come on, love, you know this isn’t the time. Please, let’s go to sleep. We can revisit this conversation in a few months when I know you’ve calmed down,” Harry assured him.

“You’re optimistic thinking it’ll only be a few months,” Draco muttered.

Harry sighed, and gently kissed Draco. It was true that this man was a little insane when it came to his Quidditch and how much he wanted his country to win. Harry wouldn’t have it any other way though, and he knew that no matter what happened when they did have this conversation again, any future was alright with him if it included Draco.


End file.
